


The Phantom of the Opera

by Fanfics_and_Frapps



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 01:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13729767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfics_and_Frapps/pseuds/Fanfics_and_Frapps
Summary: A man of unusual tastes- the heady scent of gunpowder, and the dramatic melodies of an opera performance. Mr. Moran is an intriguing character, indeed.





	The Phantom of the Opera

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, yes- Moran. Though we haven't seen his face quite yet, I have taken it upon myself to give him one. Which would be, of course, that of Michael Fassbender.  
> *from offscreen* YAAASSSS!!  
> Anywho, just some drabble at this point, with a little bit of fluff shaken into it.  
> Enjoy.
> 
> -MRF

"Twenty-five degrees down." Her voice glides through the bitter winter air, slightly muffled by the thick toque Sebastian is wearing. He adjusts the aim of the sniper rifle he holds steady, peering through the scope at the opulent gala occuring in the second floor of the opera house, across the street. "I wonder what they're talking about in there... Probably politics, don't you think?'

He grunts in response, never really one for conversation. Unless it was insults- that he could carry for hours. 

"I don't think Jim is there, so it can't be too terribly important."

"He's not Jim. Moriarty isn't human, so there's no need to address him like one."

"So i can't go about calling him Jimi Hendrix? That's a drag.

"Try Freddy Mercury. He might just burst into song." His partner laughs at this, and he smiles in spite of himself. He wishes he could turn his head away from the scope to see her laugh, to see her bright eyes and wide smile. But, there is a job to do, and he is the very best at it.

"That was good. Five degrees right. Do you have any plans for this weekend?"

"No. Do you even know me?"

"I do. That's why I'm asking, twat waffle."

"Did... Did you just call me a twat waffle? What does that even mean?"

"I won't tell you."

"Bitch..."

"Jerk. Fire when ready." 

With a bang, the life of an aristocrat ends. 

She sighs. "Coffee, then. At the little place across from Hyde Park."

Moran chuckles. "As you wish."


End file.
